The store had about 25 LPs when it opened, but in less than an hour, the record bin was empty, save for a little yellow sticky note taped to one of the black dividers that read: “R.I.P. Prince!”

It was the same story across the street at Amoeba Music; all the CDs and all the records were gone. Up the street at Rasputin Music, by 1 p.m. the store’s 50 CDs — two full rows — and 20 DVDs had sold out.

Throughout the SF Bay Area and the nation, people were mourning Prince. Hundreds of fans had gathered outside Prince’s home and studio complex, called Paisley Park, near Minneapolis.

San Francisco’s Roxie Theater decided to add a special midnight screening of “Purple Rain” on Friday, April 22, which is just one of many tributes expected to pop up in the Bay Area in the coming days.

Prince, the great Purple One who brought music lovers to their feet with hits like “Let’s Go Crazy” and “1999,” had been in the Bay Area just a couple months ago.

He played two concerts at Oakland’s Paramount Theatre in February before announcing a surprise third concert just a few days later at Oracle Arena in March. He landed a spot courtside as the Warriors played Oklahoma City and watched as the Warriors’ dancers performed a tribute to him.

Rasputin’s Hamilton managed to get into one of the concerts at the Paramount.

“It was shocking ’cuz, actually, I wasn’t really supposed to be there,” he said. “A friend works there, so he got me a working permit just to help out.

“It was great, dude. It was wonderful.”

As Hamilton was talking, Yolanda Martinez-Alley, 36, and Vince Martinez-Alley, 39, started looking through the few CDs that were left. They’d come to Rasputin’s as soon as they could.

“I was just shocked,” Yolanda Martinez-Alley said. “When I was a kid, my older sister — she was a teenager back then; I was 7 or 8 — I just remember her dressing us up, putting on makeup and dancing and singing around the house to Prince.”

Next to her, Vince Martinez-Alley was humming some bars from a Prince song, trying to remember the one he was after.

“When Doves Cry,” he said.

“I want ‘When Doves Cry,’ I know that,” she said.

Over the speakers, the “Girl 6” soundtrack played. The store, Hamilton said, would be playing Prince all day. So would Misha Holmes, 43, and her daughter, Ma’Cherris Johnson-Colbert, 24. They’d managed to snag the last few CDs, including two copies of “Lotusflower.”

Holmes said her niece had texted her that morning. Holmes didn’t believe her; she thought it was joke. “She was like, ‘I’m not playing. I’m so serious. Check news.’” So, Holmes did. “And he was gone. I just ... I don’t know. I feel like when I lost my mom.

Holmes and Johnson-Colbert don’t always enjoy the same kinds of music. But Prince, they both get him.

“That is something that we can compromise on,” Johnson-Colbert said. “If I had known, I would have been here first in line and grabbed every single CD, every vinyl record, every movie.”

“There will never, ever, ever be another genius like him,” Holmes said. “His music will forever be in rotation.”